As a traveling food writer who files stories via email, I can live anywhere I want. I have flirted with the high-desert vistas of New Mexico, the gracious hills of Virginia, the wide-open spaces of the heartland, and the awesome remote purity of Idaho. But when I seriously consider living elsewhere, relishing how great it would be to get away from onerous taxes and dumb gun laws and frigid Februarys, there always are a few things that put the brakes on any move. To some degree, it is Connecticut's natural beauty — especially the Litchfield Hills, where I spend every possible moment horseback riding.

More than the scenery and perhaps even more than the friends I would hate to leave behind, the primary thing that makes it nearly impossible to live anywhere else is the food. I'm not saying Connecticut's cuisine is as colorful as that of, say, Louisiana. Connecticut doesn't have fine, funky, backroom barbecues like Texas or great steaks like Kansas City or fried chicken like Kentucky or country ham like Tennessee. But what it does have is something good to eat nearly everywhere.

It is absolutely amazing how rare it is to find a community in this state that does not have a worthwhile eatery. If you spend most of your time in Connecticut, you probably take this fact for granted, but I cannot count the number of days and nights I have gone hungry in towns all around the country where there really was nothing, absolutely nothing good to eat.

First and foremost, consider pizza. I don't mean the world-famous pizzerias of New Haven or such four-star shrines as Zuppardi's of West Haven or Roseland of Derby. I am talking about unremarkable Connecticut pizzerias, the likes of which you find by the score all across the state. These humble restaurants serve pizza 10 times better than you'll find almost anywhere else in America.

Well, perhaps New Jersey comes close in its widespread pizza excellence, but then, where can you go for superior ice cream in New Jersey? Like pizza, excellent ice cream is ubiquitous throughout Connecticut, served in colorful joints like the Big Dipper in Prospect, or Ashley's in and around New Haven, or We-Li-Kit in Pomfret Center, or Timothy's in Bridgeport, or the UConn Dairy Bar, or Ferris Acres in Newtown, or the stealthily magnificent Ridgefield Ice Cream Shop. Then there is what may be the best ice cream in the state (and maybe in the solar system) in the roster of great parlors: Dr. Mike's of Bethel. Each of these places has its specialties; each has a vivid personality; each is unique to Connecticut. Sure, there's good ice cream in other places — Boston and the San Francisco Bay come to mind — but once you have tasted this state's best, all the others are only distant runners-up.

If world-class pizza and ice cream are not enough, consider, please, the abundance of superior hot dogs from border to border, ranging from the virtual gourmet franks at Super Duper Weenie in Fairfield to the awesome two-footers at Doogie's in Newington. Names of the state's great hot dog parlors roll off the tongue like some legendary tube-steak all-star team: Rawley's, Swanky Frank's, Blackie's, Al's, Capitol Lunch, Guida's, Denmo's, Mr. Mac's and the Merritt Canteen, to name a few. The dogs may be deep-fried (a Connecticut specialty), the relish is probably insanely hot (another Connecticut signature), and you always can count on buns that are a cut above: split-top Yankee style, well buttered, and grilled to a golden crisp.

Lest my taste in food seem like nothing but cheap eats, I remind you that Connecticut is where the hot lobster roll was invented. In much of New England, chefs think a lobster roll is made using cold lobster salad with lots of mayo. Phooey! In this state it is warm lobster meat in a hot, buttery bun — a nearly lascivious sandwich you can find in all its glory at eat-in-the-rough seafood restaurants all along the shoreline, from Westfair Fish & Chips in Westport to Abbott's Lobster in the Rough in Noank.

OMG, I haven't even mentioned doughnuts! Let's just say that once you've had them at Dottie's Diner in Woodbury, Beardsley's Cider Mill in Shelton, Orangeside Luncheonette in New Haven, Coffee An' in Westport, or Neil's in Yalesville, you've been spoiled for life. It is painful to imagine waking up one morning somewhere else with a hankering for coffee (maybe Willoughby's?) and doughnuts and realizing I left the best behind in Connecticut.

Michael Stern lives in Bethel. He is co-author of "Roadfood," first published in 1977 and now in its ninth edition. Its first chapter is on Connecticut.

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